The Walls of Lemuria (38 page)

Live and learn, live and learn…

“She was a good kid,” Keo said.

“She was,” Gillian nodded. “Did he tell you how…?”

“No,” Keo lied. “But he admitted he was responsible for what happened to her.”

“God, she must have been so afraid at the end.” Gillian closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. “Six months, Keo. That’s how long we’ve been out here. It feels like an eternity, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“We don’t even know what’s happened to the rest of the world. What’s going on out there? What about the cities? The other states? We don’t know anything.”

“It’s not our problem.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. I’m just some guy who worked for some people with questionable ethics, and you’re just some girl who once worked for a bank. Norris is just an ex-cop from Orlando. Rachel, Christine, Jordan and the others…we’re just people doing the best we can to survive. What happens out there isn’t our problem.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m overthinking it.”

“Hey,” he said.

“Hmm?” she said, looking back at him.

“We’ll be okay. I promise.”

She nodded and smiled, but he could tell that she didn’t believe him.

*

The days went
on, minus Levy and Lotte. They left Levy’s room empty for two days, and on the third Keo decided it was time to get it over with. The sooner he got everyone putting the past where it belonged, the faster they could all pick up the pieces. Gillian wanted to wait at least a week, but Keo was adamant. If they wanted him to lead them, then he would, and that meant making all the decisions.

He helped Norris clean Levy’s room out and moved the ex-cop in, along with Mark. He also moved into Gillian’s room, which meant everyone at the house finally had their own space and no one had to sleep in the living room anymore. No one was particularly enthusiastic about their newfound privileges, but he figured they would all get over it eventually, so they might as well start now.

Every now and then, Keo wondered what had happened to Joe. Had he gone back to that cabin where he stayed with his uncles and cousin, and continued on? Was it possible to make it out there by yourself? Or did he join those neighbors he had mentioned? Did they take him in? Spurn him? Maybe he should go check on the kid one of these days.

Keo put it on his to-do list, near the very back.

*

Eventually, Keo decided
it had been a while since they had gone on a supply run. Not that the house was in desperate need of any one thing, but he didn’t like the idea of never venturing beyond their small corner of the world again. The idea of living like hermits was not very enticing.

There was also the presence of Joe and his family, which had convinced him they weren’t nearly as alone out here as he had once thought. It wasn’t just Joe, though; it was also those two men in black assault vests that he and Norris had killed a few weeks back. The presence of those two still gnawed at him.

“How many more of you are out there?”

“A lot.”

So where were all those others? Did they ever come close to finding their fallen comrades? He was pretty sure the bodies had never been recovered. Jordan said the river went all the way to New Orleans. That was a hell of a long way from where they were now.

No, the others tracking the bodies back to the house for a vendetta wasn’t what worried him. What did, though, was the knowledge that they were
out
there.

Somewhere. Doing what?

“You worry too much,” Norris would say when Keo brought it up. “It’s a big state. The chances of them running across us by accident are miniscule.”

“Like Joe and his family?” he had countered.

That had made Norris think twice. “Good point,” he had said.

It was a good point. So good, in fact, that it stuck with him and made him want to go out there again.

Norris had his
M4 in a sling, the rifle thumping against his chest as the Bronco rumbled along the dirt trail. Keo drove, as usual. He liked driving. It kept his mind from wandering. He was already doing too much of that lately.

“Mark says he wants to come along one of these days,” Norris said.

“Really. Mark?” Keo said.

“Yep. Mark. I think he feels bad, especially since Jordan’s been going out on runs with you. It’s a manly thing, I guess.”

Keo had a hard time envisioning Mark out there with him. The guy was good on a boat, but he hadn’t shown the same kind of proficiency with a firearm that Jordan had. In fact, none of the others had come close to her, including Gillian and Rachel. He wasn’t too surprised, though. Jordan was a natural athlete who had been going to Tulane University on a softball scholarship when the end of the world cut short her college career.

“They’re fitting right in,” Keo said. “Especially Jordan.”

“You would like her, wouldn’t you,” Norris said. It wasn’t a question. “She’s the female you, after all.”

Keo laughed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment to me or an insult to her?”

“Take it however you want.”

“I’ll go with the compliment, then.”

“I would, too. That’s a pretty girl.”

“You like them young, old timer?”

“I like them liking me back. I don’t think it’s going to happen with her, though. She’s not even interested in Mark, and he’s at least slightly more handsome than me.”

“And younger.”

Norris grunted. “Don’t remind me.”

Keo saw the trail opening up ahead and the long stretch of empty highway on the other side. It had been three weeks since their last supply run, and Keo didn’t remember the road being this long.

“How far are we going out this time?” Norris asked.

“I’m thinking north, halfway back to the interstate—” Keo said, when the loud
crack
of a gunshot smashed into the air.

He jammed on the brake instinctively, and Norris, not wearing his seatbelt, nearly sailed into the dashboard. Keo was lucky; he had the steering wheel gripped tightly in both hands and barely lurched forward.

Norris opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get anything out, the
pop-pop-pop
of automatic gunfire erupted
from the house
behind them.

Keo jerked the gearshift and slammed on the gas and the truck shot backward. He used his side mirror to see with, but he was going so fast that the Bronco was swerving from left to right, right to left, each time threatening to plow into the woods on either side of him. Every time he almost came close to rear-ending a tree, he managed to wrench the steering wheel back just in time.

“Jesus, that was close!” Norris shouted. “How are you so good at this?”

Keo thought about all the hours of tactical driving training, the security details through gun-ridden neighborhoods hauling people whose lives were worth more than a thousand of him put together over a few thousand lifetimes.

But he didn’t answer Norris because he was too busy keeping the steering wheel under control, absorbing every bump in the road, concentrating on every emerging tree and blade of grass swiping at the sides of the vehicle.

Gillian. Get to Gillian!

Norris was looking out the rear windshield, one hand gripping his M4, the other on the handlebar above the door to keep from flying out of his seat again. He didn’t say a word even as the
pop-pop-pop
and loud
boom!
of gunfire echoed back and forth behind them, getting closer with every second that passed.

Keo drove with absolute focus, eyes on the side mirror, the truck moving so swiftly under him that he wasn’t really aware of how fast he was going. Forty miles per hour, maybe fifty, possibly even higher than that. He didn’t care because he
still wasn’t going fast enough.

“Watch out!” Norris shouted.

Keo saw the same thing Norris did at the exact same moment: A man in black clothing
(and black assault vest!)
appeared out of the woods like a ghost, stepping into the road behind them. The man raised a rifle, and the very distinct clatter of an AK-47 on full-auto filled the air.

Norris pulled his head down and screamed an incoherent curse as the back windshield exploded. Keo did the same thing—going down just low enough to avoid getting shot in the back of the head, but still high enough to see the side mirror and continue guiding his path back, back—

Wham!
He crashed into the shooter, and the man disappeared under the truck.

Keo kept his foot hard on the gas, heard the
thwumph! whumph!
as the back then the front tire ran over a large object. He straightened up and looked forward just long enough to glimpse a black form lying in the middle of the road.

They found us. Jesus Christ, how did they find us?

He glanced back at the side mirror just as he almost slammed into a towering tree. He jerked on the steering wheel at the last instant and managed to dodge a close one. Norris let out another loud curse, but his words were lost in the squealing tires and constant gunfire behind them back at the house, getting louder and louder as they got closer.

The
pop-pop-pop
of automatic gunfire continued to ring out in a nonstop barrage, only occasionally broken up by the loud
boom!
of shotguns. There were too many sounds now—the roar of the truck under him, the crunch of tires against the dirt, and the shooting—for him to clearly make out what was happening.

Then he saw the clearing coming up less than twenty meters away.

“Get ready!” he shouted.

“Do it!” Norris shouted back.

As soon as Keo hit the opening, he pulled at the steering wheel, spinning it like a top. The Bronco obeyed reluctantly, turning in a wide arc, the tires fighting ferociously to maintain its balance against the ground. The view outside the front windshield switched from the trail over to the familiar sight of the house.

The bullet-riddled house.

Keo slammed on the brakes, shoved the gear into park, reached for the door handle with his other hand, jerked it, and dived outside in almost the same continuous motion—all of it made possible by pure adrenaline coursing through every inch of him. He prayed Norris was doing the same on the other side, and when he heard the passenger door opening, he got his answer.

Bullets shredded the Bronco’s front windshield, the loud clatter of gunfire like a never-ending supply of firecrackers. Keo was already leaping out of the Bronco and running backward, sliding on the ground as he careened toward then around to the back bumper, which was now facing the trail. Norris appeared next to him, having circled back from the other side. The ex-cop gasped for breath, the expression on his face halfway between terror and exhilaration.

Two loud popping sounds overcame their senses just long enough to tell Keo that the front tires had just been shot out. That noise was quickly drowned out by the
ping-ping-ping!
of bullets piercing the sides and front hood of the vehicle. As far as Keo could tell, based almost purely on a few seconds of what he could see as soon as he burst out of the trail and into the clearing, the shooters were gathered on the other side of the yard.

“You bleeding?” Keo asked.

“Nah,” Norris said. His chest heaved erratically, and he was blinking sweat out of his eyes. “You?”

“Not this time.”

“Your luck’s changing.”

“Tell those guys that.”

Keo glanced over at the house, and the first thing he saw were the thick blocks of wood on the other side of the windows. They were pockmarked from the barrage, but that was the good news, because the barricades were down, which meant someone had made it into the house.

After he made sure they weren’t being outflanked, Keo leaned around the Bronco and looked toward the front of the house. He saw a body just a few meters from the door. He knew it was a woman right away by the curves and shape of her still form, but it took him a few extra seconds to see the side profile of her face.

Jill.